


The Blood Of a Gorgon

by Galatwix



Series: Clint Barton’s Bad Days [4]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Avengers Family, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Original Villian, POV Bruce Banner, POV Clint Barton, POV Tony Stark, Protective Avengers, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, The Avengers Are Good Bros, The Avengers Need a Hug, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has A Heart, poisoned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galatwix/pseuds/Galatwix
Summary: After Clint Barton drinks something heshouldn’t have, it’s up to The Avengers to figure out what it is and how to stop it before it’s too late.However, it’s up to Clint to figure out a way to communicate before the valuable information he risked his life over is lost.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov/Tony Stark/Thor
Series: Clint Barton’s Bad Days [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678423
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

“I’ve potentially got my eyes on the target.” 

Clint crept down the hallway, steps as silent  as a mouse, to the only open door where only a little bit of light was shining through. 

For months now, new strains and illnesses  had been spreading throughout the whole world. The people behind it being the Biomedical and Chemical Engineering Unit, or the BMCEU. 

The more days they spent on it, it seemed,  the more the industry seemed to grow. People were being taken from their communities, presumably to be brought back to the Unit for experimenting. That’s why it was dire to complete the mission ASAP. 

The Avengers had been tasked with a  special assignment. To track down the head scientist at the place, Dr. Alexander Pivot, and force him to give the information of where it was. Once the cat was out of the bag, they were mostly home free. 

It’d taken quite a while to track down the  always-moving man, but thanks to a lot of big brains out together, the code had finally (hopefully) been cracked. 

Steve’s voice crackled through mere  moments later.  _ “Do you need back-up?”  _

“No— I’ll take care of him…” 

“I've been expecting you...” The eerie voice  that floated through the darkness sent a shiver down the archer’s spine. “I was wondering when one of you would show up.” 

Clint swallowed. He’d been caught… oh  well, no harm in the old fashioned way...

“Yeah?” He kept his voice low as he  stepped into the room, bow now drawn. “Is that why you haven’t run yet?” 

The man in the room was seated at a table  across from an empty, unoccupied chair. He was smiling, looking quite pleased and content. 

The table itself was planted directly in the  center of the room and illuminated by an overhead spotlight. It was clear that it had been specifically placed there, where it couldn’t be missed. On top of it, sat two identical vials of liquid that both glinted softly in the light. 

Clint saw the trap from a mile away. Cautiously,  the archer stepped out into the light and the smile on the man’s face brightened. 

“Agent Barton!” He exclaimed softly. “What  a pleasant surprise!” 

“How is that a surprise? I thought you said  you were expecting me?” 

“I said I was expecting  _ one  _ of you,” He man  chuckled, shook his head. “Of course, I expected them to be—!” 

“Enough games!” Clint allowed his yell to  echo for a good second or so before he spoke again. “Where’s the hide-out, Pivot? I  _ don’t _ want to make this difficult. Give me a location and this meeting won’t involve pain.” 

“I doubt that… please, come have a seat,  Agent Barton… don’t worry, I’m unarmed.” 

“Why should I listen to you?” 

“Because I have the information you need.  And, I’m willing to give it to you under some...  _ conditions…” _

Swallowing thickly, Clint slid over the the  chair. He didn’t lower his weapon and he didn’t sit down, but he still planted himself in front of the Scientist. 

Satisfied enough, it seemed, the Scientist  began speaking. “Have you ever heard of the Mythological beasts: The Gorgons?” 

Clint gave a half-hearted shrug, not really  giving much thought to it. “I know they’re from Greek Mythology… or Roman… one of the two. Heard about them in school…”

“Have a seat, Agent Barton.” 

“I need information.” 

“And information is what you’ll get. Be  patient. Have. A. Seat.” 

Carefully, Clint obliged. Though, his bow  never left his grip. 

“Thank you. Do you know what’s special  about the Gorgons? About their blood, I mean…?”

Clint took his best guess. “Is it green?” 

In response, the scientist unleashed a low,  throaty chuckle and shook his head. “You’re pretty witty… I’ll give you that one ... but, no...Legend says the blood from one side of a gorgon has the power to cure any disease if consumed, while the other side is an instant killer.” 

“Interesting fact,” Clint raised an eyebrow. “ Is that why I’m here? To get a Mythology lesson?” 

A low chuckle bubbled softly from the  man’s throat again and he sat forward in his chair, clearly amused. “No, no, of course not. We’re only here to play a…  _ version _ of a game.” 

Clint nodded to the vials of liquid on the  table. “ Is that what those are for?” 

“You guessed it! You want information, this  is the way!” 

“How do I know you’re not going to trick  me?” 

“You’ll get information either way, it’s a  50/50 chance whether you’re poisoned or not. I mean, I could drink the poison and you won’t go through too much trouble to get the information, or you could drink the poison and get the information. You’d die, of course, but at least the ‘hideout’ would be taken down… if your friends find you in time, that is…” 

“How do I know you’ll give me the  information if you do drink the poison?” 

Grinning, Pivot rapped his front breast  pocket a few times. “Got a journal here that has everything you need to know… though, it shouldn’t come down to that. We can talk it out while the poison takes effect. Do we have a deal?”

Clint frowned, thinking deeply. If he were to  do this, he would be able to find the hideout and save all of those people from a date much worse than this… it definitely seemed worth the risk, didn’t it?

“Well?” 

“You’ll tell me everything?” 

Pivot smiled and stuck out a gloved hand.  “What I can. Do we have a deal?” 

“Fine,” Clint grabbed the man’s hand and  shook it firmly. “We’ve got a deal.” 

“All weapons and communication on the  table, please. Just so it’s fair.” 

_ “Barton, What are you—?”  _

Clint’s hand went to his ear and he pulled  out the comm. He turned it off, then set it and his bow in front of the man. His hands rested on the edge of the table, prepared, just in case. “Anything else?” 

“Nope,” Pivot clasped his hands in front of  his, a smirk clear on is face. “We’re all set. To make things fair, I’ll even let you go first. Heck— even take some time to study them! I don’t mind, there’s nothing different about them.” 

Clint frowned slightly as his gaze dropped  to the vials. They were indistinguishable— clear test-tubes filled with a faded white substance. He poked it with one finger, establishing that they were both made of glass. 

Think,  _ Hawkeye _ , think… Clint studied  harder. Black caps… thick layer of glass… about 10 milliliters high… 3 drams… filled to the top… both look untampered with… um...

Left… no, right… Clint swallowed, trying  mask how dry his mouth was becoming. Right was definitely it… or was it left? 

His hand reached out for the one on the  right, before he even realized what it was doing. Though, it was already in his hand by the time Pivot grabbed the other one. 

“Ready whenever you are,” Pivot said and  unscrewed his cap. 

Clint checked the bottom of his, just to  make sure, before he did the same. His heart pounded as he stared down at the liquid. For a good cause, he reminded himself. 

The archer let out a breath, trying to calm  his racing nerves as he brought the vial to his lips. Once sure Pivot was doing the same, the archer tipped his head back and allowed the liquid to slip into his mouth. He swallowed it in one quick gulp, and shivered at the cold and tingly feeling it left as it slid down his esophagus. 

“Tasty, wasn’t it?” Pivot set down the empty  vial and Clint did the same. “Now, what would you like to know?” 

Clint shuddered as he felt the liquid hit his  stomach with a cold pang. He tried to ignore it, and forced himself to focus. “Where is the lab?” 

“Ours is in Alaska,” Pivot answered  simply. “Figured the cold temperatures could make good use for experiments.” 

“ _ Where  _ in Alaska?” 

“Somewhere in the regions of Mount Saint  Elias,” the scientist shrugged. “It’s cold, hidden, away from people.” 

“How do we destroy the company?”

“You can’t. The company is big. You’re not  going to  _ collapse it _ by destroying  _ one _ research facility.” 

“How do we stop it?” 

The Scientist smiled cruelly. “Even  _ I  _ don’t  know that…” 

“What about—!” 

“Hold your horses, there, Agent Barton,”  Pivot’s voice suddenly took on a cold and teasing nature. “Wouldn’t want to over exert yourself now… you know, you’re starting to shake a little bit… maybe you should lie down.” 

_ “Answer my questions.”  _

Pivot held up his hands in surrender and  visibly relaxed. He leaned back in his chair and even put his feet up. 

“How many…  _ labs _ can you name from… the top of your head?” 

”Maybe 6, give or take because they’re in  the US.” 

“How many in total?” 

“Around 20.” The smirk  that grew on the  man’s face was unbearable. 

“ _ Where...are...they?”  _

“Oh… let’s see… Arizona, for heat  experiments… Alaska, for cold ones…. 2 on the Florida Keys for better access to Salt Water and Spring Water… one in Florida for the increased electrical activity… and one in Delaware, just because…. Anything else?” 

Clint wiped the beads of sweat that had  formed on his forehead and tried to concentrate. “What specific kinds of experiments do you do?” 

“That’s classified information, Agent.” 

“You said you’ll tell me everything.” 

“I have said  _ no such thing… you _ did. I have  agreed to our terms and conditions… I’m telling you what I can. It’s still classified. Can’t say  _ anything  _ about it, though. _.”  _

Clint was about ready to sock this man in  the jaw. It probably would’ve been easier with coordination, though. Right now his mind couldn’t really seem to focus all that well… everything was getting  _ so  _ loopy. “Wha’s in the poison?” 

Why was he slurring? 

Now suddenly above him, The Scientist  smiled smugly. “The Gorgon's Blood is a special strain. Nothing you would know of…a slow killer. Do you like it?”

Clint didn’t even move a facial muscle to  emphasize his point. 

“It’s only been tested a few times before,  but all results were what we wanted, so it was a success. Definitely worth experimenting with… and very, very thorough. It’s never failed before.” 

Frowning in disgust, the archer shook his  head. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to comprehend. He was going to die… okay… but how was he going to get the info to the team? 

“Hm…” Pivot’s voice practically forced his  eyes open again. “It seems your friends are coming to pay a visit—“ 

Yes! 

“— I hope they have success  understanding you!” 

Clint’s brow furrowed in question, but before he could question much, Pivot disappeared. The archer might’ve closed his eyes for a second too long, but it didn’t matter… the cure to this was gone... and Clint was ever so slowly dying. 

He could feel himself giving up, feel his  body giving out. He closed his eyes and leaned back. How long would it take to kill him?

“Hawkeye—!” 

Someone familiar was calling to him, but  the archer was far too out of it to really care. Someone dropped to their knees beside him, hands poking and him and touching him, feeling his throat for a pulse. 

“—He’s alive! Hey, hey! Legolas, look at  me! Come on—!” 

Clint let out a low groan when a sharp pang  of pain slammed into him. His head lolled back when he lost the strength to keep it up. It was tiring to even move his eyes. God… everything hurt so much… why did everything hurt? 

Despite it all, the Archer’s body was  steadily becoming limp, betraying him. Maybe if he slept, he’d feel better when he woke up… 

“Hey— no, eyes open! Stay awake, you  hear me, stay awak—!” 

Clint welcomed the darkness when it hit  him like a black wave. 


	2. Chapter 2

Clint was roused from slumber by the  sound of movement and quiet argument. He squinted his eyes open slowly and groaned at the ache-y feeling that overtook him. God… it was a mistake drinking that… why was it taking so long to kill him? 

“Hey, you’re awake…” Bruce’s warm and  welcoming, but worried, expression swam into view. There were two other people standing over him, as well, and it didn’t take the archer long to decipher Natasha and Tony. 

The first thing Clint did was attempt to sit  up, but Bruce was quick to stop him with a gentle push back down. 

“No, no— don’t try to sit. You need to lie  still and try and stay still. We don’t want to mess with anything. Do you remember what happened?” 

‘Gorgon’s… blood...” Clint frowned at the  weird mix up in his voice. “Gorgon’s—!”

“It’s okay—don’t try to speak,” Bruce cut in  softly. From his pocket, he pulled out a penlight and flicked it on. “I’m just going to check your eyes, is that alright?” 

Clint’s brows furrowed, but before he could  get an answer out, Bruce had already laid a hand on his head to steady him. The light was blinding when it shone in his eyes and, as soon as it was gone, the archer pulled away, blinking rapidly. 

“Sorry,” Bruce said with a nervous smile.  “Were you injured at all during the mission?” 

Clint shook his head slightly. 

“No?” Bruce frowned. “Were you injected?  Eat something you shouldn’t have?” 

“Poisoned…”

“What’d he say?” 

Clint’s eyes flashed to one of the other  people in the frame. It was Natasha who’d spoken. 

Bruce shook his head sadly. “I can’t tell,” he  admitted. “His pupils are pretty uneven, so he must’ve hit his head on something… h-he might’ve said  _ playpen _ … that’s either imagination or his condition’s a lot worse than I originally thought…” 

“Oh…” Natasha’s worry only seemed to  grow. “That’s not good…” 

“Is it a concussion?” Tony was next to  speak, his voice more worried than the archer had ever heard. 

“I...I don’t think so…” at least Bruce was  honest. 

Clint swallowed. Wait—Playpen? No, he  said  _ poisoned….  _ God, what  _ was _ he saying? They didn’t need to care about him, they needed to hear his information! “Lab… lab… the l-lab...” 

“Take it easy, Clint,” Bruce said softly and  laid a hand on the archer’s trembling shoulder. “I can’t understand you. You’re pretty messed up… were taking you back to try and figure out what’s wrong.” 

Clint’s eyes drifted to his friend’s hand  resting on his arm and suddenly he got an idea. Sign language! Of course! If he could get his limbs to listen—! Lifting his arm was a challenge on it’s own. It was shaking bad enough that each time the archer tried to move it, it was both exhausting  _ and  _ painful, but it could work! 

“What are you—?” 

Come on! Clint pushed himself harder,  forcing his tense,  _ heavily _ shaking fingers to obey. L. I need an L! 

The L looked nothing like an L, though. In  fact, it looked more like a slowly curling in claw if anything. 

“Clint, hey, you’re going to strain  yourself—!” 

“No, no wait, he’s trying to tell us  something.” Natasha leaned in closer. 

“He’s trying to  _ what?”  _ Tony exclaimed. 

Natasha ignored him. “It’s sign language! Is  that a C?” 

Clint squeezed his eyes shut, straining  harder. But, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his finger to go up. L! Lab! He shouted silently. The lab is in Alaska! Mount Saint Elias! 

Groaning painfully on the outside, but  angrily on the inside, Clint forced his body to roll to the side. The reaction to his action was immediate, Bruce’s hands were pressing onto his shoulders, forcing him back down. 

“Clint, relax, you’re seriously going to hurt  yourself—!” 

“‘Lab!” He knew his words were still  mixed up, yet he still tried to push through. “The lab… in Alaska… Mount Saint Elias! It’s in Alaska! Alaska! Alaska—!” 

Desperately, Clint grabbed onto Bruce’s  sleeve, eyes wide, begging. “Alaska—!” His words were suddenly cut off by a painful twist in his gut. Groaning softly, he curled in on himself just a fraction and released Bruce’s sleeve to wrap a hand around his stomach. 

“Clint?” Bruce seemed instantly worried.  “What’s the matter?” 

The painful pang occured again and, this  time, Clint squeezed his eyes shut. God… what happened? Had he been stabbed? 

His question was answered soon enough  when he suddenly coughed heavily. No matter how much his muscles screamed in pain, he rolled to his side when he felt bile rising in his throat. He gagged harshly, trying to hold it back, but it was so hard—

Right in the nick of time, a basin was held  out in front of him and he emptied what seemed like everything he’d ever eaten from his stomach. A sea of red swam across his vision. 

A hand was rubbing gentle circles on Clint’s  back, and there was a soft voice murmuring encouraging words to him, like: “Get it all out…It's okay… it’s alright…” 

Frankly, the archer felt like he didn’t have a  choice with that first one. His stomach seemed to have it’s own plans; he continued dry-heaving nothing well past the point of just saliva and stomach acid… 

When the time came that Clint finally  finished his bout, he was exhausted and shaking so violently, he felt like a chihuahua. Still, all the same, he needed his friends to know the information. So, that meant, no matter how tired he was, or how scratchy his voice sounded, he had to keep trying. “It’s in… Alaska, please you… have to…  _ listen!” ”  _

“Clint, calm down, you need to rest—!” 

“Alaska! Saint Elias!” 

“You’re going to hurt yourself—!” 

Clint didn’t care, he gripped Bruce’s  sleeve again, holding tighter than ever before. “Alaska! The lab… is in… Alaska!” 

I heard you, Clint— I know, I know, it’s  blue…” 

“No! You don’t understand—!” 

“—Stark, hand me that syringe— you’re  alright, Clint, you’re okay… it’s blue, I know…” 

“No, not blue—It’s in Alaska—!” 

“Take a deep breath, Clint. Just take a nice,  deep breath and try to calm down—!” 

“Please—!” Clint wouldn’t, he  _ couldn’t!  _ If  there was a chance he might not have been able to talk to them again, he had to make sure they knew where the labs were! They needed to destroy them so this kind of thing didn’t happen to anyone else! “It’s in Alaska!” 

“I heard you, I heard you…” 

“Alaska! It’s in…” Clint’s voice suddenly  trailed off when he felt a sharp pinprick in the crook of his arm. He froze and glanced down in shock, only to see an already mostly empty syringe. He could feel his face draining of color when he whipped back to look at Bruce, horrified. 

“Just relax, Clint,” the Doctor was saying  softly as he placed the syringe somewhere out of reach. 

“Alaska…” Clint gave one last tug to  Bruce’s sleeve before he fell limp. Someone’s hand was undernhis head, lowering him back down to the table, his eyes still staring up at the doctor, utterly betrayed. 

“You’re doing great… just go to sleep  now… you’ll be alright...” 

Clint could feel the drug taking effect,  turning his limbs to mush and weighing down his eyelids. Still, it didn’t matter. He had to keep trying to say something— _ anything  _ useful _.  _ This didn’t need to happen to anyone else…

“The lab… _ please,”  _ he choked out as the  darkness closed in, “the lab is in…  _ Alaska.”  _


	3. Chapter 3

After arriving back at the tower, Tony, along  with everyone else, helped to get Clint to Bruce’s lab. Steve, Natasha, and Thor had headed back into the field to see if they could find anything, while Tony and Bruce has stayed behind to try and figure out what was wrong. 

For the past 30 minutes or so, both Bruce  and Tony been performing tests on the archer, however nothing seemed to show what was causing the problems. Most tests taken had seemed to be average. Not great, of course, but acceptable. Nothing life threatening. Not yet, at least. 

Nothing explained why Clint had sounded  like a madman on the ride here, nothing explained the sudden bout of hysterical nausea. Nothing explained why Tony had found Clint barely conscious on the floor, nothing explained why his pupils were so uneven. 

There was no blood on his skin and, after  careful inspection, there seemed to be no internal bleeding of any kind. It was certainly a mystery. 

“How’s the blood looking, Stark?” 

Tony glanced up at the sound of his name.  He blinked and shook his head of thought, before returning back to the results. “Blood count’s a bit low,” he replied. “But, it seems to be within acceptable range.” 

Bruce sighed from where he was busy  writing something down in a notebook and shook his head. “Are there any more tests you can think of?” He asked worriedly. “I can’t think of another  _ single _ test to try.” 

“Well, we’ve gotta be missing  _ something,”  _ Tony said and headed back over to where Clint was lying somewhat peacefully. “Something’s clearly wrong…” 

“Yeah, but I can't, for the life of me, figure  out  _ what,”  _ Bruce ran his fingers through his hair and plopped down in a spinny chair not too far away. “I’ve tried  _ everything  _ I can think of…” 

Tony nodded in agreement and crossed his  arms over his chest. He leaned back on the counter behind him with a sigh and bent his head in thought. “Maybe it was minor…?” He suggested feebly. “Food poisoning? Hit his head?” 

“It doesn’t explain why he was talking like  that…” Bruce said. “And there’s no signs of obvious external injuries of  _ any  _ kind….” 

“Well, I think it’s safe to say, whatever he  did, he did it willingly…” 

Bruce pried his hands from his face to  shoot a confused look. 

“I mean,” Tony threw up his hands. “His  stuff was laid out all nice and pretty on the table and, unless Pivot has some chivalry, Robin Hood did it himself. Not to mention, there was no sign of  _ any  _ struggle and there are no injuries  _ anywhere  _ on his body that would suggest that he fought any—!” 

Before the man could finish, Clint’s body suddenly arched on the table  and his leg kicked out ferociously. A small growl, that could’ve easily passed as a whimper, escaped his lips as he ripped the mask off his face. 

“Clint, no!” 

Tony pushed himself from the counter and  Bruce practically launched himself from the chair to help their struggling friend. 

Bruce reached the archer first, stumbling,  and dove to grab the hand that was working on ripping out the IV. “Clint, no, you need that!” 

Clint didn’t seem to care. He gave up on  working on the IV and instead turned his attention to Bruce, hazy blue eyes filled with feverish confusion. He mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath, then abruptly lashed out on the unsuspecting scientist. 

“Clint—!” 

The archer somehow managed to eject  himself from the table, hands grasping violently at Bruce. No recognition shone in those usually bright eyes. “Hershey! Hereshy!” Clint yelled out aggressively. 

Tony was barely quick enough to step in  and wretch the archer away before further damage could be done. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Bruce gasped and nodded. 

Clint bucked again in Tony’s grasp, his fingernails digging into his arm. “Goatee! Hershey!” 

“Not going green? Good! Now, please  knock him out or something! I don’t think he’s calming down!” 

“Hershey!” 

“Right, right,” Bruce pushed himself from  the wall and stumbled frantically across the lab in his search. 

“Hurry up!” 

“I’m trying to! I don’t just have sedative  laying around — here we go!” 

Tony turned his head for a split second,  briefly distracted by Bruce. In that time, Clint threw his head back and head butted Tony straight in the nose, succeeding in freeing himself and knocking the billionaire back a few steps. 

Without wasting a second, Clint tore the IV  from his arm and threw it to the ground. When he attempted to stand, however, things went sideways. Literally. 

“Shit! Catch him!” 

Tony glanced up from where he was busy  trying to clear his tear-filled vision. He managed to spot Clint across the exam table before the archer’s legs gave out from under him. 

He fell to the ground in a hasty and most  ungraceful way, attempting to grab a chair for support before he literally pulled it on top of himself. 

The crack of skull meeting tile and the  crash of the chair seemed to echo through the whole lab and both remaining Avengers were quick to hurry over. 

Tony fell to his knees on the tile, ignoring  how much it hurt, and pushed the chair and supplies from Clint’s now unconscious body. “He’s out cold,” he announced to Bruce when the scientist joined him on the floor. 

“Jesus Christ…” Bruce’s hands ghosted  over Clint’s slightly trembling body, but at the sound of slight wheezing, he moved to his head and tilted it back slightly. “Hand me the mask, will you?” 

Tony nodded and reached behind him for  the oxygen mask. Upon grabbing it, he brought it back around and handed it to Bruce. “Do you… do you have any idea what that was?” 

Bruce winced and grimaced slightly as he  pulled the oxygen mask over Clint’s nose and mouth. “I...I don’t know…” he finally  admitted. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him and I don’t know how to help him…” 

“What do we do, then?” 

Bruce grit his teeth and swallowed. “I… I  don’t think this is a job for us… Tony, we’re not _ medical physicians ...”  _

“You think we should admit him to a  _ hospital?”  _

“We  _ all  _ know he doesn't like them, but if it’s  the best way to help, we shouldn’t hesitate. Do you have anyone you can call?” 

“And, by that, you mean 911?” 

_ “Tony…”  _

“Right, right, Sorry, Sorry, just a joke…” he  was silent for a moment, debating. He knew plenty of doctors, sure, but would any of them be accessible at this very time? “I can make a few calls,” he finally said. “No promises, but I’ll do my best.” 

“You do that. But, first, help me get him  back on the table…” 

Tony nodded his understanding and they  both got to work. 


	4. Chapter 4

Things happened in bursts for a long  period of time. Given, they were bursts of him being aware, as Clint never really seemed to have the strength to actually open his eyes. 

First, there was arguing on the jet by his  friends…. well, mostly Tony and Steve like usual. Over what, the archer wasn’t sure, but he didn’t get long to comprehend before he was out again. 

Then, he’d dreamt he had been captured in  a base and they knock him out. That one  _ had been  _ a bit off, though… 

The third burst, he was being lifted from his  mostly comfortable position to another bed of some kind. Before he was out again, he was aware of moving and yelling from numerous people. 

The fourth, he was aware of pain and  aching and bitter coldness in his whole body. People were touching him, probing and poking at him like a pin cushion. Things were achy and every single touch burned. 

There were many times Clint awoke, but  hadn’t stayed awake long enough to do anything. They were like tiny pictures in his mind with every one of his friends in each. Natasha reading a book, Tony trying to figure something out, Bruce when checking monitors and standing by the window, Steve also reading, Thor popping in every so often. 

They weren’t fully developed memories,  though. Only tiny snippets of life. 

The first time Clint awoke fully, he was  laying in a bed with a monitor beeping steadily at his side. When he squinted open his tired eyes, he discovered a white tiled ceiling ahead of him. 

Everything ached, the way the rough  blankets were rubbing against his skin  _ hurt.  _ There was a slight pounding sensation at the back of his head, signaling the start of a headache. 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Has the  medicine succeeded in calming you down?” 

Clint flinched at the sudden voice and  whipped his head to where it had come from. Who he discovered, though, was someone he hadn’t expected: a tired Tony Stark looking like he’d run through a hurricane. 

“I hope you don’t freak out on us again…” 

“Tony?” 

At the word, Tony’s eyebrows bounced up,  however his face held a certain expectancy to it. “Uh… yeah?” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I have no idea what you just tried to say, but I hope it was nice.” 

Clint rolled his eyes distastefully and broke  eye contact with Tony. Instead, he focused himself on searching the room for something he could write with. 

Damned be known he was going to  _ make  _ _ sure _ they knew where these god-forsaken labs were. 

“What are you looking for?” 

“A pen. Drawing pad. I need to write  something.” 

“What was that?” 

Crossly, Clint turned his gaze back to Tony.  He brought his shaking hands up and tried to make it look like he was writing. Thankfully, it didn’t take Tony long to catch on. 

“You want to write something?” Something  about his tone made him seem unsure. “Alright… I’ll see what I can do.” 

Tony disappeared, then reappeared a  moment later, a tired looking Bruce in tow. 

“I think he wants to write something,” 

“Yeah?” Bruce glanced down at Clint, eyes  soft and worried. “Clint, your motor functions have been all over the place since we got here, I don’t think you’ll be able to…” 

“I can try!” 

Bruce frowned, brow furrowing. “Try not to  talk, okay? We don’t want to irritate anything.” 

Clint scowled and, since they couldn’t  understand his words, made a noise in his sore throat. This seemed to be the only way he could show the most disapproving distastment he could. 

“We could at least let him try,” Tony cut in. 

“I'm not doing it to be mean,” Bruce argued  quietly. “I just don’t want him to hurt himself.” 

Tony gave a look and the doctor finally  gave in. 

“Alright….” First, he grabbed a notepad  from the end table, and then pulled a pen from his pocket. “Clint, I want you to be very careful, alright? We don’t want to make whatever this is worse, so if anything starts to hurt, you  _ have  _ to stop.” 

Clint nodded slightly and Bruce helped him  to sit up a bit, before the utensil was offered to him. He reached out with a sore, shaking arm to grab it. 

The first few times he tried to curl his  fingers around it were all highly unsuccessful. Each time his fingers moved, a small pain shot through them, eventually, though, he forced through the agony. In the end, he only managed three fingers around the pen, but they would have to do. 

Writing, if it could even be called that, was  even worse. 

Bruce held up the notepad with his other  free hand, close enough to Clint’s face, so that he could see what he was doing, and so he didn’t have to move much. However, even the doctor’s minimal efforts seemed like too much. 

Similar to his fingers, each time Clint  curled, bent, or even tensed his arm, pain was quick to shoot through. Despite the pain, though, he  _ couldn’t _ give up. This couldn’t happen to  _ anyone  _ else; the team  _ had _ to know. Not even Clint’s greatest enemy deserved  _ this _ torture. 

He brought a shaking pencil to the paper  and tried to scribble out 4 letters: INFO. That way, they would know he knew something. However, the more his hand moved, the more it hurt. It ached, it  _ burned;  _ what the  _ hell  _ was in that stuff?  _ Four letters  _ would be his downfall! 

“Alright, Clint, that’s enough.” 

Something must’ve given him away,  whether it be his facial expressions or even the monitor, because as soon as the pain reached a higher level, Bruce pulled the notepad away and Tony grabbed the pen. It was both good news and bad news. 

Kind of good news: his arm was on fire  now and he didn’t think he could’ve written more if he tried. 

Bad news: the ‘letters’ on the notepad were  scribbles and unreadable. He’d failed. 

“You did fine.” 

Clint know he didn’t. He pulled his now  painfully spasming arm back to his side, trying to hide how much it was really bothering him. 

It didn’t slip past Bruce and, soon, the  doctor was reaching for the sore arm. “I told you, didn’t I?” He asked with a sigh. “You shouldn’t try to strain yourself like that.” 

If Clint’s hand wasn’t literally on hellish fire,  he might’ve even punched the pesky little Doctor. But, then, he remembered what would happen if he actually did that and started to think otherwise. Oh well… one could dream. 

“Does this hurt?” 

As soon as Bruce’s fingers touched the  skin, the fire only seemed to burn brighter and faster and hotter. If his other hand had been mobile, Clint was sure his fingers would’ve curled in response. For now, the shape intake, wince, and speeding of the monitor would work. 

They did. Bruce pulled away immediately  and nodded in understanding. “That hurt,” he said. “I got it. That hurt you. Um… alright, I think we should get a specialist in here and maybe some morphine—“ 

At that word, Clint was quick to shake his  head. “No!” He took a second to cough to try and clear the pain that resigned in his throat. 

He didn’t want to be fuzzy— he had things  on his mind he  _ needed  _ to share! 

“Shh… it’s alright… I know you don’t like  narcotics, Clint. But, you’re in pain right now, and I want to make this as comfortable as I can for you.” 

Bruce was right, of course, he  _ was _ in a  great deal of pain. However, he still shook his head. it didn’t change the matters. He  _ couldn’t  _ be fuzzy! 

“Clint,” Bruce shook his head and sighed.  “It’s either morphine or sedation. I know that’s going to upset you, but, believe me, you being in pain is going to make your mind just as fuzzy as the narcotics.” 

Clint rolled his eyes. 

“Let go of that stubborn pride and let us  help you. I know you want to tell us something, and we’ll find a way to do that, but there are other things that need to be done first. One of which, is making sure you’re comfortable. So, blink twice for sedation, three times for morphine. 

Choice? What  _ choice  _ did he have on the  matter? Fuzzy, fuzzy, or fuzzy? He didn’t want to be fuzzy! He needed his mind to be clear, so he wouldn’t forget anything! 

“Clint? Are you going to answer?” 

Clint narrowed his eyes and averted his  gaze stubbornly. However, he forced himself to blink three times. 

“Morphine?” Bruce nodded. “Alright. I’ll go  request some.” He turned to Tony when done talking to Clint. “Stark, have you figured anything out by chance?” 

“I’ve run over 130 algorithms,” Tony replied,  defeated. “Some have come close, but I can’t  _ quite  _ figure it out. How close are the others to finding that doctor? Or, at least an antidote?”

“They’re picking up some crumbs,” Bruce  sighed. “Pivot’s hidden himself and his labs pretty well.” 

Clint forced a strangled noise at that last  sentence. Both Bruce and Tony turned to look at him. 

“Please,” Bruce said. “You’re going to hurt  yourself…. I’ll get the morphine. You lay down and take it easy, Clint. And,  _ please _ be quiet.” A moment later, he disappeared from view. 

“Probably should listen to him,” Tony  sighed and sat back in his chair again. “Don’t want him going green from getting so pissed off at you.” 

Clint rolled his eyes, but gently lowered  himself back into the mattress. 

“Guess you don’t like that guy, huh?” Tony  gave a little chuckle. “Pivot, I mean. Yeah, they’re searching where we found you now. If they find anything, we’ll let you know.” 

Subconsciously, Clint pulled his painfully  twitching arm closer to his body. He never wanted to cross paths with that man again. “Psychopath.” 

Tony stared down at him, face twisted in a  mixture of confusion, but before anything could be said, Bruce entered the room again. 

“I’ve managed to get some morphine,” he  said. “And I spoke with the doctors. They’re going to have someone come over and check out your arm later.” 

Clint sighed in defeat as Bruce rounded on  the bed. He fixed his gaze on the floor as the needle was placed into the IV and the plunger was presumably pressed down. 

“Give it a few minutes to kick in,” Bruce  said. “You know it’s going to make you drowsy, but I don’t want you to fight the sleep, alright? If you want your body to fight this off, you’re going to have to give it a chance to do so.” 

It was already taking effect, Clint could tell  by the way his body was steadily going fuzzy. His eyelids were growing heavy and the fogginess was beginning to settle in. 

“I’ll go find a specialist.” 

Clint was sucked into darkness before he  could even roll his eyes. 


	5. Chapter 5

_ “There’s a reason why I told you those  _ _ locations,”  _

Clint whipped around to the sudden chilling  voice of Pivot. His shaky hands reached for his bow, but to no avail. All he was met with was empty air. 

“I knew your friends would get here, I was  counting on it, in fact, but I knew my poison would take your speech first.” 

Clint tried to respond, but the only sound  that left his lips was a strangled cough. He coughed again, this time, more harshly, then again at the feeling of something creeping up his throat.

“Poor, naive archer,” the voice droned on. “I  was hoping it’d be you to come. Not that it would make a difference, but you _are_ the most gullible and easiest to kill.” 

Clint doubled over when the feelings in his  body got worse. The thing creeping up his throat suddenly morphed into an odd shape. Something long, wet, and solid as it slithered upwards. It was choking him! 

“Worthless avenger…” 

Make it stop! Make it stop! 

“Most gullible…” 

Shaking his head, he dropped to his  knees and clawed desperately at his throat. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe! 

When the thing reached his mouth, Clint  was quick to gag and cough as hard as he could, until the mass finally spilled out. It landed on the ground with a soft hissing noise and, when the archer squinted open his eyes, he immediately stumbled back in horror. 

Clint stared wide-eyed at the slimy snake  that now rested on the floor. It didn’t take long for the creature to notice him. 

“Please..!” His voice was a croak and very  unintelligible even to his ears. “What… What did I do—?” 

Before Clint could even finish his  statement, the snake suddenly lunged at him, it’s fangs finding a place on his forearm. 

The archer shook said arm violently and  his terror only grew when the snake began pumping its venom into his body. 

“Please—!” He grabbed onto the creature  with his other hand and pulled as hard as he could, but the thing refused to budge. “Please— I-I’m Sorry! Please, help!” 

“Clint—!” 

Clint burst awake with a jolt. He tried to  force an arm out for attack, but to no avail, as it was flailing and wild and caught easily. 

“Hey, it’s just me…” 

White began swimming into Clint’s vision,  closely followed by the worried face of Steve. A face covered in grime and sweat with hair dirty and tangled. He must’ve just returned from a mission of some sort. 

He laid his arm back on the bed and  leaned in closer before speaking. “I heard you’ve been drifting for a while now and wanted to check on you. Glad to see you awake… You were having a nightmare, you’re alright now.”

Just a nightmare? But, it felt  _ so  _ real. Clint  blinked a few times as his brain tried to process. There was a snake in his  _ throat,  _ there was no way he could’ve faked… 

The realization hit him like a bullet and his  eyes darted down to the thing resting against his chest. The feeling began fading into his life of an uncomfortable tube down his throat. 

“You stopped breathing a few nights ago,”  Steve explained and laid a hand on his, effectively drawing his attention back to him. “This was the only way.” 

Clint’s eyes widened and his face sank into  one full of terror. 

If he couldn’t talk, how was he going to get  them the info? How would they catch this stupid scientists? How would they prevent this from happening to anyone else— god, he couldn’t stand the thought of it. He wouldn’t wish this torture onto his greatest enemy? Why did he felt like he’d said that already? Why was—? 

“Clint,” Steve voice snapped his  attention again. “You’re going to get better, you hear me?” 

Clint was quick to show his doubt. 

“Just don’t give up, okay? If you die, I’m  sure Nat will find a way to bring you back and kill you herself.”

Somehow, Clint didn’t doubt that. He  wished he could tell him that he would try his best, but his voice wasn’t working either way. Not only that, but his limbs were still pretty jacked up and hurt. 

He looked down to his arm, just to double  check, and finally noticed the bandages wrapped around the one. Great. He could barely move— No signing, no writing, no talking, he was  _ useless.  _

How could he pass the message along?  Morse code? It was a start… if he could even remember anything… stupid narcotics… 

“Clint?” 

Fingers were snapped in front of his face,  succeeding in bringing his attention back. 

“Are you listening?” 

Clint turned his head back reluctantly. 

“Do I have your attention?” Steve raised  an eyebrow and, once sure Clint’s eyes were locked in his, he relaxed slightly and continued. “We have a lead on Pivot,” 

The half of Clint that wasn’t paying  attention was suddenly snapped to full-on eyes glued attention. He nodded slightly as Steve continued. 

“There was a mysterious lab of some kind  that was hidden in a wall. We have people sweeping the area now, but we’re still waiting for them to finish. The ingredients and chemicals seem to be recently used, so we’re hoping that whatever that doctor made, he made or perfected an antidote or something there. Something that could help you.” 

Clint nodded again, slowly despite his  growing tiredness, trying to show his genuine interest. 

“If they find something, they’ll send it  straight to this place and hope it makes it to you in time.” Steve gave a half-smile and squeezed Clint’s hand gently. 

“How is he?” 

Another voice piped up and not two  seconds later, a familiar face wandered into his line of vision: Natasha, looking just as bad as Steve. 

Despite being close to completely  exhausted, Clint forced his eyes open more. It’d been ages since he’d seen Nat. Not to mention, of all people, she’d be the one who could read him best. Maybe she could figure out what he’d been trying to say. 

“Awake and somewhat lucid.” 

Natasha scoffed lightheartedly and crossed  her arms over her chest. She looked down at Clint, face twisting into something chilling. “And, so he wakes… Steve, do you mind?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Feathers and I need to discuss a few  things here.” 

Steve sighed and nodded reluctantly, he  shot Clint an apologetic ‘good luck’ look as he stood from his seat. 

The door shut not long later and Natasha  slid down to take the chair. “So…” she began and leaned down closer to Clint. “Now that you aren’t screaming random words anymore and seem…  _ somewhat  _ more lucid… what the  _ hell  _ were you  _ thinking?”  _

It was a trade, Clint told her silently. He  lifted his bleary eyes to meet hers, no matter how mentally terrifying it was, and gave a slight look. 

“You should’ve waited for backup… not  given in to…  _ whatever  _ the  _ hell  _ that scientist did to you because  _ clearly something _ was done  _ willingly!  _ There was no sign of a struggle and everyone says you  _ ingested  _ something instead of it being  _ injected.”  _

Clint nodded. That was true. He held her  gaze longer, hoping to everything that was holy that she would stop thinking about her fury and catch on. 

“You are the most  _ idiotic _ person I’ve ever  met, you know that?” Natasha took a breath, seemed to almost force more anger into her face. 

He saw past it, though. He hated himself  for it, but he  _ always  _ saw past it. He knew her too well not to. Not to mention, the tears filling her eyes was growing noticeable. 

Her way of showing emotions was always  so odd, but so like her. Hiding her worry and fear in anger. Showing her love and affection in insults. She wouldn’t cry, though, no matter how much it seemed like she would. She would never cry in front of him. 

“You’re insufferable and I can’t  _ believe  _ the  shit you get yourself into!” 

But you love me for it, too… Clint wished  he could tell he was sorry. He wished he could say something to make her feel better. All he could think of to do was to lay his hand on hers, much like he’d done with Steve. 

Natasha grabbed onto his limb and  cupped it gently in both of her own. She leaned forward, head bent slightly to the ground and eyes tightly shut. Trying to compose herself.

“You’re my best friend, you idiot.” The  defeat in her voice was heartbreaking. “You can’t leave me by myself with these heathens… I don’t want to handle them by myself…” 

Clint blinked, holding his eyes closed for a  second, and also tried to compose himself. He was tired, yes, but Natasha could be the one to figure this out. His eyes popped back open. He needed to stay awake. 

“How could you do that, Clint?” Natasha  sled quietly. The way she was squeezing his hand was painful, but he let her. “Why…?” She paused and frowned. “Why  _ would  _ you ingest something  _ willingly…  _ unless…” she looked back up at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “Unless there was a….  _ Reason?”  _

Clint nodded as vigorously as his tired  body would allow him. He squeezed Natasha’s hand back, no matter how much it hurt. 

“There was a reason?” Natasha sat up  straight in her chair, body tensing. “Of…  _ course!  _ There was no  _ fight,  _ no struggle…. how did he get you to drink it? Did you make some sort of…  _ compromise?”  _

A nod. 

“You did?” Natasha blinked, clearly  shocked, and took a breath. “Okay, okay… did he have someone targeted? And, the only way to get him to stop was to drink it?” 

A shake of his head and she frowned  deeper. 

“He couldn’t have been threatening you…  was he?” 

Another shake. 

“A loved one?”

Shake. 

“A teammate?” 

Shake. 

“Not targeting or threatening  _ anyone?”  _

A nod. 

Natasha pushed herself from the chair and  pursed her lips together. “No targets, no threats, then what…?” She froze and whipped back around to him. Something had clicked. “Was it for information?” She demanded. “Did he  _ tell _ you something?” 

Finally, Clint nodded. The relief that flooded  through his system was amazing. 

“You have information… about the  _ labs?”  _

Again, a relieved nod. It’d been  _ ages…!  _

“Oh my god…” Natasha blinked, shocked.  “You have information….  _ That’s  _ what you  were trying to tell us on the ride here! And, that’s what all the nonsensical babbling was about! Oh my god… I can’t wait to see the looks on everyone’s faces when I tell them I figured it out before  _ any _ of them! I-I’ve gotta go tell—!” 

Clint shook his head before she could  continue and she frowned at him, eyes suddenly questioning. 

“What is it?” 

It’s now or never, Clint told her silently and  gave her a soft look. I don’t have long… 

Natasha padded back over to the  bed and stood there, just looking shaken for a moment. Her gaze left for a second and turned distant. When it returned, Clint knew she understood. She always understood. “Clint…”

Clint begged the best he could with what  little function he had left. This information needed to get out as soon as possible, the clock was ticking, he didn’t have much time left. 

Defeated and tears returning, Natasha sat  back into the chair heavily then grabbed the pen and already scribbled on paper from the end table. She thought for a minute, eyes going sad and distant again, before she returned to the paper and began writing. 

“Here’s how it’s going to go…” her voice  was soft and sad, perhaps even trembling. “I’ll point to the letter and you’re going to nod if that what you want. If that letter isn’t right don’t do anything.” 

Clint looked over at the alphabet she’d  drawn on the paper and nodded. He gave her one more sad smile and, then, the pair began. 


	6. Chapter 6

“Widow!” 

Natasha raised her head at the sound of  her name and turned in the direction it came from. The entrance to the waiting room. Upon spotting Tony and Bruce hurrying towards her, she wiped herself clean of emotions and stood. “What do you need?”

_ “What do we need?” _ Tony reached her first,  eyes bloodshot and tired as they stared her down. “We need some damn answers! What the hell happened?” 

Natasha swallowed and glanced back at  the door that led to the surgery ward. “I… I don’t know… have you spoken with Steve?” 

“He doesn’t know shit — speaking of  which, why aren’t you with him and Thor? They have some leads or something, shouldn’t you be out there?” 

“I wanted to stay here and wait for news.”  Natasha replied smoothly. “What did Steve tell you?” 

“He said you were the last person with Clint  before something happened. That you talked to him for like an hour or something?” 

“That’s true. I got some information from  him.” 

“What the  _ hell _ happened after  _ that?”  _

“He crashed,” Natasha replied simply. She tried desperately to keep her tone level 

“They took him into surgery to try and fix whatever just gave out.” 

“Surgery?” Bruce seemed exasperated, a  pint of color drained from his face. “He’s too  _ weak _ to handle _ surgery.”  _

“Hm.” Natasha agreed silently. “It wasn’t  my place to say… I’m not a doctor…” 

“Well, maybe…” Tony trailed off, gaze  locking on something behind her. 

When Natasha turned to see what had  distracted him, a new wave of worry and nausea overtook her. 

The morbid face of the surgeon heading  towards them was haunting. Everything about his demeanor screamed ‘bad news’. 

“Are you the Family of Clint Barton?” 

The three exchanged a look, all too worried  to speak, but Tony found the strength to nod. 

“He’s stable… for now…” The surgeon  began hesitantly. “But, we’ve only managed to buy him some time. The poison has slowly been eating away at his internal organs for a while now and, even if we were to fix that problem, the poison would just keep eating away at them. I’m afraid, by this point, death is inevitable.” 

Natasha kept her face free of emotion the  best she could. Even she couldn’t withdraw the tiny bit that shone through, though. Her best friend, her only family, lost to something relentless. 

“What about an… antidote?” Bruce’s voice  was soft and weak, clearly on the verge of breaking. 

“An antidote might cure the problem, yes,  but his body is so weak by the point, I’m not sure he’d be able to handle the fighting anymore. The best thing we can do is to put him out of his suffering and allow him some peace. It might be time to start preparing your goodbyes.” 

Natasha took a deep breath, forcing her  emotions down again. She dipped her head, then glanced back up at the surgeon, face blank. “Can we see him?” 

The surgeon nodded solemnly. “Follow  me.” 

The surgeon led the three of them to a  different room than before, presumably one on constant watch. He didn’t leave long after telling them he was sorry before continuing his rounds. 

Natasha stepped into the room silently, but  paused when she noticed Clint in the bed. He was virtually unrecognizable to her eye. It was only then that she realized just how much the sickness had affected his body. 

His normally muscular, but slim frame had  turned into something fragile. He looked like a skeleton lying there, sickly pale skin nothing but a blanket over his bones. His peacefully closed eyes were free of wrinkles, but the slightly sunken look of them and dark circles didn’t go unnoticed. 

One of the strongest men she knew and,  yet, here he was, reduced to nothing but a fragile victim of poison. Here he was, confined to a hospital bed and attached to more machines than she could count. 

“Oh my god…“ Tony’s exasperated words  expressed what they all were feeling, even Natasha, though she didn’t let it show. 

She kept her neutral basic expression on  her face as she headed over to the side of Clint’s bed and pulled up a chair. Once seated, she took a deep breath, then grasped her best friend’s hand in her own. 

Across the room, Tony and Bruce hadn’t  moved. 

“Are you just going to stand there looking  like a bunch of lost puppies?” Natasha asked sharply. “It’s  _ incredibly _ infuriating.” 

“Ev…” Tony blinked and cleared his throat.  It took a minute for his voice to come back to him, shaky as it was. “ _ Everything  _ is infuriating to you…” 

Bruce clenched and unclenched his jaw,  then swallowed. He took another look at Clint in the bed, then shook his head again. “I’m going to stay outside. Maybe I can talk to his main doctors about some stuff…” 

The scientist took his leave silently, leaving  only Tony and Natasha in the silence. 

“There’s more seats,” Natasha scoffed,  breaking the silence first. “You still look lost.” 

“It’s, uh...” Tony cleared his throat, shook  his head. “It’s just weird to see him like this…” 

Natasha agreed with a sad nod. 

Tony moved to go pull over another chair,  but suddenly froze when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He rolled his eyes and sighed as he pulled it out, but the bored expression soon faded from his face when he saw the screen. 

“Shit… It’s Steve. He says they found  something in the lab, maybe some of the equipment used to create the poison.” he looked back up at Natasha, eyes wide. “If they do, I-I’ll need to be there to reverse—!” 

“Go,” Natasha urged. “No point in  standing around. Go get Banner to help you, I’ll be fine here.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Positive.” Natasha squeezed Clint’s sickly  pale hand gently. “He can’t hold on forever.”

Tony’s eyes hardened in determination  and he cast one final look at Clint in the bed before nodding. “I’ll keep in touch.” 

The door snapped sharply closed behind  the billionaire, leaving only Natasha, Clint, and the machines keeping him alive. 

Natasha swallowed and turned back to her  best friend. “Just hold on a little longer,” she said and rubbed a small circle on the back of his hand. “We’re going to fix this.” 


	7. Chapter 7

For the first time in a long time, Clint  dreamed of nothing but darkness. 

It wasn’t long before things began coming  back to him, however. His mind was foggy, but, deep down, he felt he needed to  _ do  _ something… 

His eyelids lifted slowly and he blinked a  few times, trying to adjust his eyes to the white ceiling above him. 

“Clint?” 

Clint turned his head in the direction of the  voice and stared at Natasha sitting there, looking like a hot mess. 

“Hey…” Natasha smiled at him,  actually  genuinely _smiled_ at him. She brought her hand to his forehead and gently brushed the hair away. “Look who’s finally conscious!” 

On Clint’s other side, Tony and Bruce both  startled awake. Natasha hit Steve to wake him and Thor turned from where he stood guard at the door. 

“Hey,” Tony laughed. “You’re not dead!” 

“How are you feeling?” Steve interjected. 

Clint swallowed, surprised that he actually  could now. His throat was raw and achy and dry, but there was no tube. 

“Do you need some water?” Tony asked. 

Clint turned his head to see the man  holding up a small plastic cup of liquid. The feeling of something cold slithering down his throat suddenly overwhelmed the archer and he was quick to shake his head. 

“How are you not thirsty?” Tony chuckled  good naturedly, but set down the cup anyways. 

“What happened?” Clint’s voice was rough  and raspy, barely even louder than a whisper, but it seemed to distill some tension. 

“What do you remember?” Natasha probed  gently. 

“Talking with Pivot… then, I drank  something and passed out…” Clint swallowed again. “Couldn’t talk, er, you guys couldn’t understand me… had information, no one would listen… then, Nat came… told her what I knew… then, woke up here…” 

“You drank poison in exchange for  information. That sound about right?” 

Clint nodded slowly. “Did it help the case?” 

“It did,” Steve assured before anyone could speak and leaned in closer. 

“We’ve got people tracking them down as we speak.” 

“Why aren’t you guys with them…?” 

“And, miss the chance to see our favorite  archer wake up?” Tony patted his covered leg gently. “No way!” 

Clint swallowed. Then, What  about  _ Pivot?  _ He shuddered. Even the  _ name _ sent unwanted chills down his spine.  “Where’s Pivot?” 

“Pivot…” Steve’s face fell. “oh… We’ve got SHIELD agents  doing their best to track him down as we speak…” 

“‘Still out there?” 

“Yeah…” Steve smiled sympathetically. “Don’t worry,  W-We’ll find him…!

Clint shut his mouth and nodded, eyes  downcast to the ground to avoid eye contact with anyone. Pivot was still out there… would he try and finish the job? What if—? 

“Clint, get out of your own head,” Natasha’s  voice snapped him back to reality. She laid a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find that son of a bitch if it’s the last thing we do. He’s not going to cause you  _ any _ more trouble. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” 

Again, Clint nodded, though he wasn’t too  sure about that last statement. He had been growing tired and could barely find the strength to keep his eyelids open anymore. That latest news, however, had definitely set him on edge. 

What if Pivot found a way in while he was  sleeping? Killed him then? 

“It’s okay, Clint,” Natasha smiled and laid a  hand on his head, then began to smooth his hair back again. “You can go to sleep now. There won’t be a time where you’ll be alone, okay? We’re going to make sure at least one person is here to keep watch.” 

Clint swallowed again and nodded. As  he looked around at the room full of _superheroes_ smiling at him, he realized Nat had a point. He’d like to see  _ anyone  _ try to get past Thor  _ alone _ . So, he squeezed his eyes shut, for the first time in a long time, relaxed. Recovery had to start  _ somewhere.  _

Nothing would get to him as long as he had his team. He surrendered to sleep with that thought still on his mind. 


End file.
